


You Again

by BavianBunni



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Gore, Guns, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Multi Chapter, Other, Redemption, Redemption AU!, Self Harm, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, fun times with drinking, happy endings, maybe some songs, pau and pat own a bar, we'll see as the fic goes on, who knows..?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2018-10-09 00:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10399857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BavianBunni/pseuds/BavianBunni
Summary: A chance encounter at a bar with a familiar stranger leads to an unexpected ending.





	1. Fist Fights and Beer Bottles

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! First fic. Hope you like!

He was on his fifth drink of the night when it all went to shit.  
He hadn’t meant to come to this bar, not at first. But all of the vodka at home was drained and tonight he needed another drink. He was on his way to the liquor store when he saw the place. A small, run-down looking bar with a board outside plainly marked ‘2 dollar drinks every Friday night’.  
He was happy it was Friday.  
Walking in, nothing was wrong. The doorbell chimed his entrance and the patrons around merely shot him a glance and went back to their glasses. Voices carried hushed or none across the room, the silence of the patrons filled in by soft Jazz.  
Tom felt accompanied to the bar already.  
He sat at the bar, and the man running the place seemed familiar, but not quite placeable. The man’s Polish accent was thick. “What’ll it be?” Tom glanced at the menu.  
“A vodka.”  
The man made the drink, hands rough with time and work, and Tom drank it down.  
The cycle repeated.  
Back to the fifth drink.  
As he tipped back the glass and let the vodka burn down his throat, the door chiming interrupted the rumbling silence of the bar. His eyes flicked to the man sat a couple seats down for a moment, but it was enough time to see him look up, and then quickly down eyes wide. He hadn’t been intending on looking at the man who entered, but as the bartender murmured a soft “welcome back.” His curiosity overwhelmed him.  
He turned, eyes locking with the patron entering, and his blood ran cold. At the same time, the boy entering paused his movement, steely gray eyes widening in fear as his hoodie slipped off the all too familiar spiked horn hair of his. Toms shock wore off and he felt his blood boil.  
“You.”  
“Tom, let me explain-”  
“You can’t explain this off!” He growled, not realizing all eyes were on them.  
“You’re causing a scene,” Tord said, voice quivering for once and Tom paused. His Tord never cried. His Tord never backed down from a chance to quarrel. He took a breath.  
“You have five minutes.”  
Tord breathed a sigh of relief, and walked up to him, taking him off to the side room. They left, the distinct murmur of the bartender talking to the other patrons “Just a couple fight” barely having a thought to the two, Tord only muttering “fuckin Pat” under his breath.  
They're barely a minute in the room to the side and Toms' arms are on either side of Tord, pressing him into the wall, causing the shorter of the two to yelp in shock. His left hand, Tom realizes now his only hand, fumbles for his sweater pocket to a gun that's surprisingly not there. The brit growls in response. “Sorry, sorry!” The red-clad man says, raising his hand to Toms' chest, trying to softly push him away with no avail. “It's a natural response!” “Give me one reason not to kill you where you stand,” Tom yells voice low and Tord can hear the frustrated tears that are building up in his throat.   
“I don't have any”  
“You're Tord! You're big robot wielding scientist! You're-”  
“A man who messed up and almost killed his old friends. Who was driven crazy with power. Who,” he clears his throat, “who killed an innocent man.”  
Tom would roll his eyes if he had any. “You're a big bad war criminal, Tord. We've seen you on the Tel, we've read the shit you've done. You've killed before-” “Never someone who didn't threaten me first. Never a man you could deem innocent. Never someone not on the battlefield.” He says, voice quiet and frustrated. A voice so like the one he used before he left, the same soft voice that made jokes with Matt or spoke drawing ideas with Edd. Tom remembers, for a moment.   
It only fuels his anger more.   
He clocks Tord in the face, seething and yelling as the shorter man merely cringes from the recoil of the hit and stays pressed against the wall, eyes clenched shut and listening.   
“You deserve this. This is all your fault! This is your legacy Tord, time for you to deal with it! You killed Jon! Our neighbor! A man who's never done ANYTHING to you! You have blood on your hands! And Edd, oh god, do you even care what you've done to him? He has nightmares, Tord! He can't trust anymore! He's always second guessing me and Matt now! And Matt? The poor guys only memories of you now are pain and hurt and you blowing up his house! Not even mentioning how he flinches every time someone moves too quickly or too close to him without a mention first! And what you did to me!” The brit's crying now, big, angry tears that spill down his cheeks and land on the hardwood floor between the two. “You almost blew me up! You destroyed my house! You hurt my friends. You hurt OUR friends! But hey, Congratulations on the Army!”  
Tom breaks down, his yelling devolving into angry crying as he lets out his anger in a drunken haze, hitting Tord who makes little effort to stop the blows, merely blocking his face and curling up slightly. Eventually, both sink to the floor, exhausted. It's then as Tom's gathering his breath he notices the silent crying of the boy in front of him.  
Neither speaks for a while, neither move. Then, he speaks up.  
“I don't have an army. Not anymore.”  
Tom looks at him, almost shocked. “What?” “They thought I died in the robot. I had my two head soldiers relay the information. It's been weeks since the army disbanded.”  
Tom's at a loss for words yet questions spin rampant in his head. He stutters out a quiet “Why?”  
Tord smiles, sadly. “I could have had the world, Thomas. I could've ruled with an iron fist and used power to bring everyone to their knees,” he chuckles drily, “But oh, the world, the power isn't worth the loneliness. I see that now. I only wish I could have seen it sooner.”  
The silence after was deafening, until Tom's soft humming filled the gap.  
“You're an asshole.” “I know.” “I hate you.” “I know” “I forgive you.” “I-wait, what?” Tord looks at him incredulously. “I'm not saying it twice.” Tom states.   
“I almost killed you.”  
“Not like the other's haven't done the same. Edd threw me and Matt at Eduardo once in a car.” “Wait, what?” “I'll explain later.” “Later?”   
“Yeah.” Tom chuckles. “When we get home.” “Home? What? Tom-” Tord sputters, but Tom cuts him off. “You want a second chance?” The brit asks. “More than anything.” “Then you're going to stay with me. At my house. So I can keep an eye on you.”  
Tord thinks it over for a second.  
“Okay.”  
*  
Bringing Tord home while drunk was probably not the best idea.  
As the boys dragged Tord's suitcase in, Tom tiredly pointed to the couch. “Uh. You can sleep there if you want.” Tord raised an eyebrow. “No guest bed?” Tom bites his lip. “I... didn't think that far ahead.” Tord smiles, and Tom thinks he'll make his 'classic stupid tom' joke, but he instead shrugs.   
“I've slept in worse places. Any blankets? It's cold in here.” he murmurs, shivering slightly. Tom chuckles. “Y'know, I thought coming back from Norway would have made you more resistant to the cold.” “I haven't been to Norway in years. The army was based... elsewhere.” Tom blinked. “Oh.”   
Tord waves the awkwardness off, instead putting his suitcase near the couch and sitting down, pressing himself into the cushions as if to steal the warmth they had. He rolls his shoulders blissfully, and Tom is reminded of a cat. He chuckles to himself. “Whats so funny, Jehovah?” “None of your business, Commie.”   
The two share a smile.  
Tom gets his old friend a blanket and sits with him for a while. The two share a flask of whiskey (courtesy of Tord) and talk for hours about what's really been missed. Tom's not sure if it's the alcohol or the regret in Tord's voice as he talks about the past and the hopeful tone in his voice he has talking of old friends, but he thinks he just might have missed this.  
As Tord passes out on the couch and Tom goes to his own bed, Tom settles with a warm feeling in his chest.  
He blames it on the alcohol.


	2. Awkward Starts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tord and Tom share a bed. Edd and Matt are brought into the situation.

Tord hadn't meant to get himself into this situation, honest.  
He hadn't even really thought of coming home with Tom at first. He was ready to slink into the shadows and live out the rest of his days in solitude. Maybe he would even make a hentai. But instead, he let himself fall back into place with an old.. friend? What was Tom to him? Didn't matter, really. Didn't change where he was now.  
In bed. With Tom.  
Who currently had his arms wrapped around Tord as the taller of the two snored, blissfully (if not stupidly) unaware of the current predicament.  
He didn't mean to snuggle up to the brit. If anything, Tom curled up to him! Not his fault he was cold in the living room and the bed seemed far more appealing. All he had done was slide into bed next to the snoring dead weight.  
He didn't know Tom was a cuddler.  
So now here he was, his back pressed tight against the taller's chest as he snored, drooling on the pillow under his head.Tord would laugh if he was sure the noise wouldn't wake up Tom and cause him to get his ass beat.  
He shifted in Tom's grasp, trying to wriggle free as undisturbingly as he could. An involuntary gasp escaped him as he heard Tom yawn softly. Then, the arm that had slipped around his waist dragged him closer, higher. The norwegian shivered softly as hot breath beat down on his neck, soft scruff scratching at his neck as lips ghosted over him. He bit down on his lip, closed his eyes and shuddered. “Pillows don't move.” Tom growled, and his throat tightened, his eyes blowing open in fear. “Tom-” “Shhh. Mornin' talk.” he mumbles, voice scratchy with sleep.  
Figuring there was little he could do to move out of Tom's grasp, he let himself relax and dozed off as well.  
*  
They wake up to the smell of pancakes.  
Tom does, at least. He blinks awake, yawning tiredly as he hears Edd and Matt's voices from outside his bedroom door, presumably the kitchen. They're talking somewhat hushed, so he presumes they think he's still sleeping. With a grumble, he curls back around Tord.  
He then pulls back with a loud “WHAT THE FUCK?!”  
“Tom, you okay in there?” Edd calls to the two now very wide awake men, both staring wide eyed and silently screaming at each other. “J-just fine!” Tom yells to him, stuttering.  
“What the fuck are you doing in my bed.” Tom whispers, voice high pitched. “the couch is uncomfortable!” Tord heatedly whispers back. “That doesn't mean sleep with me!” “You seemed fine with it in the middle of the night!” “I was half asleep man! I was completely out of it!”  
“Tom? Who are you talking to?” Edd calls from behind the door, teasingly. “Got a new lover in there? Do they want pancakes?” The boys both go red. “No! It's just-” Tom cuts himself off. Tord looks up at him uncomfortably. How were they going to explain this? How were they going to explain Tord?  
“Tom?”  
“Yeah, I uh... get breakfast ready, for four. You and Matt sit down. We have to talk.” He says, a nervous tone in his voice.  
“Alright...”  
Tord slips off his hoodie, the warmth of the room making him too hot coupled with his anxiety. Tom's eyes widen, and he shoves one of his own T-shirts over Tord's head, causing him to yelp. “What was that for?” “You're not going out there half naked!” “Oh calm down, Jehovah-”  
“Dude? Are you coming to the table-” Edd starts, poking his head in the door and pausing his sentence when his eyes lock on Tord.  
“Edd, I-”  
“Table. Now.” Edd's voice is calm, sickly sweet.  
They both know that only means he's furious.  
It scares the shit out of both Tom and Tord, who walk quickly to the table, heads down like they'd just been scolded by a mother. Matt's eyes widen at the two as they sit down. Edd sits beside Matt, across the two of them.  
“Mind explaining why Tord's in your apartment, wearing your clothes and sleeping in your bed?” Edd asks, too casually as he takes a pancake onto his plate. Tord opens his mouth to answer, but Edd holds up a hand. “Tom talks. You eat.”  
Tord takes up his fork and drags over his own pancake. He, with a little work, cuts off a small piece of his pancake to eat while looking to Tom to explain.  
“So I was at the bar-” “You were drunk.” “No! Okay, well, I'd had a bit to drink but-” “You slept with your arch-enemy” “I did not sleep with Tord! Well. I slept with him but not slept with him because like w-”  
“Tom.” Ed says, rubbing his eyes tiredly and looking between the two boys, “Just tell me why he's here.”  
The room is tense. Toms' head swirls with something to say. He doesn't know what to say at this point. “We're living together now.” Tord murmurs over taking a bite of his pancake, taking the lead to spitting out the truth. Edd looks at him in shock. Matt's face of confusion and worry and hurt over the situation makes Tord cringe. “It's so Tom can make sure I don't destroy the world or something.” He adds, trying to bring a lighthearted mood to the four. “Are you planning to?” Edd asks, voice authoritative, and Tord frowns deeply. He puts down his fork, taking a deep breath and readying himself for what's to come.  
“I think it's about time that I explain myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter is a little shorter than usual! The next is going to be a bit of background story for Tord and brings a little light to just why everything happened. Anyways. Hope you enjoyed!


	3. Red wrists and Red Leaders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Tord's background in the army.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick trigger warning for aspects of warfare, medical talk, and slight gore

The past was not something Tord was fond of thinking about. Even the mere thought of telling the other boys left a thick feeling of nausea in his gut. He pressed his head into his palm, trying to will away a stress headache he was sure was coming. He hadn't realized he was even doing it until strong hands were on his own, gently pulling it away and startling the smaller man out of his guilty thoughts. Pitch black met gray and Tom's voice, low and scratchy yet calming brought him back to reality. “C'mon Tord.” He coaxed, “No need for that. Your forehead's going red. You don't need to tell us anything if you aren't ready. We don't need an explanation yet.”   
“We'd like one, though.” Edd quipped, immediately greeted with a look from Tom that hushed him. Tom's gaze was back on the smaller brunet after that, Tord could always tell when Tom was looking to him and it sent a warm, comforting wave over the red-clad lad.   
“I wanna tell you everything,” Tord whispered, taking a breath, and letting himself fall back into his memories.  
~  
Artillery fire rang in his ears as he barked orders at his comrades. “ALRIGHT BOYS, NOW YOU GOTTA LISTEN TO ME.” Tord barked into his earpiece from his spot in his newest robotics project. “PAUL, LAUNCH A BUNKER BUSTER AT SECTION 8A. PATRYK, LEAD IN THE MEN TO B3, BRING IN THE M16A4'S AND SHOW THESE BOYS WHO'S BOSS.”  
“Yes, Red!”  
“At your command, sir!” The leader grinned, gripping at the controls and starting up the bot. It flared to life under his touch and a mischievous glee overtook him as he effortlessly crushed a tank beneath the robot's foot.   
“Ah, this is going to be child's play!” He laughed. It always was those days. When he had his army, things always went well. Not to say it wasn't hard to get where he was.  
~  
He left for the army eight years ago. A bright-eyed shining boy with a taste for guns, anime porn and communist ideals. He was a tad shy, a little quiet, his voice thick with a shaky Norwegian accent but a fire in his gut persuaded that all away. He had a short army stunt with his boys; the last step to push him over the edge and plant the idea of a real job in the military in his mind. The way he felt while training with them; the way he felt knowing he was taking down an enemy, it brought out something in him that he only ever felt while battling Tom. But things with him were getting complicated. Their lighthearted bickering was getting closer to cutting insults, a quick tussle ended in more bruises and blood than Edd deemed safe. Their friendship was tumultuous, Tord knew that; more than anything now, it was getting violent. He didn't want them to end on a bad note, but the thrill of the victory was slowly becoming everything he wanted. He didn't want to hurt Tom. He was a friend, a good rival of his.  
So he left.  
Alone.  
Placed at the lowest ranks of the army.  
That was fine in his books. He knew very well nothing in life was spoon fed to you. He could do without the constant berating, of course, but with being one of the shortest soldiers in the male ranks who just couldn't will away that extra baby fat he was aware there would be someone jumping down his throat. That was easily solved, of course, with a couple well-placed punches and a pain tolerance that let you grin when someone punched your molar out.   
He raised himself slowly up the ranks, going out in the field and showing off with his guns.  
In the midst of the gunfire and pressing against the enemy line, Tord was in his element. Slowly, he raised up the ranks.  
Slowly, the target on his back grew.  
His situation came crashing down when he got his first commanding rank. One of his men, a tall, lanky sonuvabitch who butted heads with him constantly pressed him into the wall without warning and before Tord could even squirm to turn a bullet shot through his Achilles tendon and he dropped with a surprised shout. “Sorry, 'Commander',” the man cooed, voice sarcastic and dripping with hate. “But your time is-”  
A bullet through his skull brought him to silence. “Fuck!” The brunet screamed, chest heaving as he tried to keep calm. His hands scrambled at his long range radio, clumsy fingers pressing down on the talk button. “I need a medic. Now! It's urgent!” He growled into it. And with that, he let the pain overtake him and let his vision fade to black. The young male faded in and out of consciousness, enough for him to hear another, soothing voice talking to him.   
“You'll be fine.” The voice whispered, voice gruff yet soft. “Jus' a bit of a scratch. Stay with me now, kid.”  
“Okay.” He whispered, voice cracking before he inevitably blacked out again from the pain. He woke up soon after, on medications, well alive. However, the wound was hardly a scratch. Damage was done, worse than Tord first thought. He needed surgery, physiotherapy and a cast. He could no longer do field work. He was moved from the soldiers' ranks to the robotics and technology department of the army.  
“At least you're alive.” his medic, a man named Paul had told him.  
He liked Paul. His boyfriend Pat, a soldier in the upper ranks who had a kind smile and a warm hug always open, was pretty good too.  
He made a mental note to keep the two of them around, and he let himself get close.   
After Paul let Tord get back to work, (with a strict schedule of physiotherapy every day for a couple hours afterward) he was immediately placed into making enhancements to regular prosthetics, a technological advancement that could help the army greatly in the long run. There the young man worked, and as well as the projects orders given by his superiors, he set aside time for his own ideas.  
It was soon discovered by his superiors that he made the army robotics well. He made adjustments to previous ideas and designs and made leaps and bounds in bringing out the best in the technology the army had. That the world had.  
Tord was always fond of medical technology, ever since he was a child. In school, he would carry around a small, plastic toy robot. Hell, it had gotten to the point he installed his own intricate room system into the boys shared house, and built a large robot beneath it. Not that the army was to know of that, yet. It wasn't finished when he left. But knowing what he learned in the army would change that. The plan to ride his robot was a fun one, but he wanted something bigger than just that. He wanted to see what he could do, how far his potential went.  
He wanted to make a Cyborg.  
He believed that to add robotics to a man was to help him extend his lifespan. To have the body of a machine, yet the will power, the conscious thought of a man, sounded legendary. Extraordinary. Impossible.  
He wanted to change that.  
His first robot implant into the human body started with repairing the nerves in his foot, surrounding his tendon. It wasn't easy to get right. There were moments he screwed up and the pain he felt was indescribable. But he worked through it.  
When the project was a success, when he could stand on his tip-toes and jog properly again, it made it all worth it.  
He worked day and night on his robots, only taking time off to work out, practice his shooting and take care of himself when Paul came in to remind him to. He made countless, amazing things; specialized hands and legs and other products for amputees in the army that could work like regular limbs, that could help others function; he made others lives easier. He even made smaller projects, like small cubes that expanded into furniture. He helped. Because of him, things in the army were better. The world would be better for it, for the things he did.   
That didn't mean his hunger for power was gone, though.  
The flame in his stomach was re-ignited with a visit from his commander, a man named Richard (Though everyone who was unfortunate enough to meet him called him Dick.). The man was arrogant, snide, a hot head with a temper and a penchant for making others feel smaller than himself. He decided to take the time to single out the little norski. Tord was having absolutely none of it.  
His presence started out small. Towering over Tord as he worked and touching things he shouldn't. Slowly, he started to do things to rile Tord up, enough to get under his skin but not enough to make him lash out. He called his technology that of idiocy and linked his identity to that of a weasel.  
“Small, jittery things.” He said, sneering. “It seems you are much the same.”  
It took two weeks for Tord to snap. (He counts it as a new record)  
There are things that you don't do to Tord. Things you don't do to anyone. He could take it, of course, but that by no means meant he wanted to.   
Dick had come in the room, clearly drunk and in a mood to mock. “You!” He slurred to the smaller man. “You'ree a disgrace to th's armyy” he barked. “None of th' thing you do fer us will ever get you anywher' in this place! You're useless!”  
With that, he swung his arm across the desk, throwing down and breaking countless machines. Breaking Tord's life work.  
Tord froze up. Anger bubbled up inside him like there was no other thing to feel. The world went red.  
When he came back to, the blood on his hands hardly bothered him.  
“You're right, you know.” He told the lifeless body below him. “It would be best to keep rising my ranks then.”  
He got up and took what happened to the Boss of their whole organization, blood still on his hands as he walked past shocked guards.  
A smooth tongue, a couple of mind controlling gadgets and a few executions later, he took his place as Red Army Leader. Red Leader. He brought Paul and Pat to be his right-hand men. He fixed up his army, pressed them into his own perfect soldier molds. His power got to his head. He stopped working for others, for the world; he started working only for himself and his role in the world.  
He never looked back.  
-  
A need for his perfect, red robot finally arose eight years later. The time of pressing on in fights was diminishing; no one wanted to stand in the way of the Red Army. Instead, they mostly did jobs for the people; handling zombie epidemics and other sorts of tragedies. The peoples' army no longer needed a leader to guide them like children; Tord found the opportunity perfect. “Take care of the kids for me while I'm gone!” Tord joked to his top soldiers as he kissed their cheeks goodbye.   
“We will!” A teary-eyed Paul said, waving him off. Pat held his fiance's hand and smiled.   
“Come back soon. The army will miss you.”  
“Don't worry; I will take a week at most!”   
-  
As he was caught and wrapped in a firm hug by Edd, he couldn't help but think;   
Maybe just a little longer than a week.  
-  
The robot needed some repairs, and Tord took his time on them. He promised himself he wasn't stalling to stay with his friends.  
-  
He needed to tease Tom just a little more, just enough to get under his skin and get him out of the house. He needed them all out of the house for when he took the robot. He couldn't let them find out the truth, he decided. He ignored the guilt in his gut.  
-  
He hadn't meant to punch Matt, it was instinct. The guilt in him grew.  
-  
He wished Tom would have stayed gone, that he wouldn't have had to act like he was so evil. 'I just want to scare him' Tord thought to himself as he shot at the house, 'Don't let him get hurt. I just need to get out'  
-  
“Tord, What's going on?!” Not Edd. Please.   
“Hey, Edd! Sorry, I just couldn't leave this behind. Thanks for holding onto it for me!” Please, let me go without any more trouble.  
“But I thought we were... I thought we were friends!” We are. I promise you we are.  
“Hah, No! What would I need friends for when I got this?!” He said instead, voice cracking and he felt sick but the grin stuck. “I'm unstoppable!” A hollow, insane laugh. And then as Tom's voice rose up once again, things went to hell.  
-  
When the harpoon hit, he hoped that it would kill him off quickly.  
But nothing ever goes how he wants it to.  
He got up from the rubble, clutching an arm that no longer worked. He was numb from shock and felt no need to cry. He zoned out, and everything was a blur after that for a while. His right-hand men came to get him, and he directed them to bring him anywhere but the army.  
He was never unstoppable. His army wasn't going to stick around forever. He didn't know where to go from there.  
So he let Paul and Pat help him choose that.  
He was no longer Red Leader, no longer a homicidal genius.   
He was Tord. And he didn't know what that meant anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this took so long to get out guys! Been dealing with a lot to balance. But we're back in business!


	4. Tord Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Tord's sad story, the boys decide it's Tord day.

The room was silent as Tord finished telling his tale. He hadn't noticed the large, warm tears that ran down his cheeks until a firm hand grasped his chin, nimble fingers wiping them away. "Tord," Tom whispered. The Norwegian looked up at the blue clad Brit, who's own tears seemed to pool in his eyes, as he pulled him into a soft hug.   
"It's okay now." Edd said, from across the table, voice soft. He was not in tears like the other two males, but instead held Matt's hand tight as he seemed lost for words after that. They sat for a couple moments, letting the silence fall away to soft sniffles. Tord had shut his eyes in the midst of it all, nausea settling in his gut. He didn't want pity. He didn't want his old friends to see him as some soft, little damsel that needed their help or something. Once he pulled himself together enough, he spoke.   
"Can we just eat breakfast?" He asked, regretting how soft his voice sounded. The other boys looked at each other. Tord looked up at the clock. He hadn't realized how long he was speaking. Hours had passed, of him recounting the past he was so unfond of. The pancakes were cold, untouched. Tord went pink at the realization, guilt building in his gut. "-I'm sorry, I didn't-I didn't notice the time- you all should have eaten-"   
"Tord, it's okay. We're gonna plan B."  
"Plan B?" Before Tord could move, Tom, Edd, and Matt had already seemingly made a decision. Matt grabbed the pancakes, sweeping along to the kitchen as Edd grabbed a couple utensils and followed him, while Tom hooked his arms around Tord's waist. Tord, too shocked and confused by what was going on, merely let Tom pick him up and bring him over to the couch. Tom sat himself down with Tord in his lap in the middle seat of the couch, while the smaller stuttered for questions. "Wh-Tom, Tom what's going on?"  
"Tord day!" Matt spoke happily, following into the living room and putting a small plate of fruit down on the living room table.  
"Tord day?"  
"Tord day." Edd confirmed, slipping a couple other the things onto the table and then sitting next to Tom, resting a hand over the red and blue boys. Matt snuggled up to Tom's other side, doing the same and hugging them close.   
"What is Tord day?" Tord hesitantly questioned, and Tom grinned while the others smiled.  
"Tord day is like Edd day, or Tom day, or Matt day," Tom started, "When we think about bad stuff, then it becomes our day to have some good stuff happen. That means lots of cuddles and pampering."   
"I-I don't need-"  
"Just let us do this? Please?" Edd whispered, softly.  
How could he say no? "Okay." Tord whispered. "It's Tord day." and the boys cheered.  
~  
An hour later, Tord was already ready to go back to sleep. He was constantly lathered in affection from the other boys that made him practically glow pink. Tom was massaging him in all the right places that made him just melt while Matt and Edd fed him, hugging him and rubbing his stomach and lulling him into a sleepy state. By the time he was full, all four of the boys had curled up into the perfect comfy position for naps. Tord practically whimpered as Matt threaded a hand into his hair, to softly scratch at his scalp in the perfect place.  
"You okay?" Edd asked, with a chuckle.   
"This is all perfect." Tord practically purred, voice thick with sleep.  
"We're not done yet." Edd said, smiling. Tord gave a questioned hum. "You finished eating, bud?" When Tord nodded, he felt Tom shift under him, and he was being moved again. He grumbled from the movement but was soon being settled on a soft bed. He closed his eyes as he felt three bodies slip in beside him, and a warm blanket draped over him. He didn't even realize it when he fell asleep.  
-  
Matt pets his hair as he gazed down at the sleeping figure, drooling softly in his sleep. He then looked up to the other two boys, who were looking at each other, smiling softly. "Does anyone else feel complete right now?" Matt asked sheepishly. Edd and Tom blushed.  
"Yeah, yeah I think we do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't wait til you guys gotta deal with ugly day
> 
> (Sorry about the short chapter, but more to come in the next couple weeks)


	5. right hook, left hook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tord faces the neighbors for the first time since the End.

He wakes up alone.  
God, everything hurts, everything hurts and he can't see and when he reaches blindly all he can feel is the covers below him and he can't breathe. He cries out and he tries to move but everything he does feels like fire. His hands feel too warm and he can feel it now, the blood that's pouring over his open palms and he can feel his side numb and is this how he dies? He can't feel the blankets anymore, and suddenly he's back there. The cold wind is such a stark contrast against the warm crimson that he tries so desperately to keep inside, his hand too little to cover his bloody arm. He can see the house now. The wreckage. Everything hurts. Everything hurts and it's all his fault. He can't hear anything now. He turns and the car pulls up and its still too far away, and suddenly everything is fading to black and he's screaming and he's crying and-  
“Tord!” His eyes snap open. Three faces look down at him, worry written plainly across their faces. Edd's hands are on his shoulders, squeezing them. It isn't enough to hurt, but it's enough to feel. He's not crying, no, but he looks so close to it that Tord's gut drops and he feels his own tears spring to his eyes. Immediately Edd's pulling him close. “Tord.” He says softly, and it's so feather light it seems it could easily slip away from his hearing. Tord's shaking, exhausted though he just slept and does the only thing he can in the moment. He huddles closer to Edd, letting him hold him for those moments. He just lays there with him, wordless, the other two curling around them as he listens to Edd's heartbeat.   
This isn't the first time they've done this, Tord remembers. There were so many nights Tord would wake up from a nightmare and crawl into Edd's bed. He was always there for him, never questioning too deep, never making Tord worse. He would always wait for him to open up. And now here they were, Matt and Tom joining them, and he felt safer than he had in a long time. He eventually slid from Edds' arms and settled between the three of them until morning finally came.  
-  
The day seemed to turn into "Steal Edd's hoodie day because mine is in the wash" day for Tord. Edd had left it on the couch and well, who is he to waste a perfectly good hoodie moment on a gloomy day like they had? He threw on some leggings he had stolen from Tom earlier in the day and topped it off with the bright green bundle. It was fairly large on him, but he wasn't exactly swimming in it, so he considered it to be great. Besides, the hoodie covered the space where his lost arm was, and covered his face which was all he cared about. The young man threw on his sneakers, and after a quick chat with the others about where he would be, he decided to go on a walk.  
He never ended up going on his walk. With the hoodie pulled up over his face, he hadn't seen the man until he heard him.  
"Hello, gorgeous. What's someone like you doing hanging out in a losers hoodie like his?"  
"Walking." Tord stated in the deepest voice he could muster, rolling his eyes and kept moving. The person calling after him had obviously not seen his face if he was talking to him like that. His stomach dropped though, as heavy footsteps pounded behind him. In the time he had to turn around, the man was in his face. He recognized the stranger, and it seemed the man had recognized him from his voice too. He barely registered the fist before it was flying at him, barely had the chance to move backward as the wind blew past his face with the force of his fist. With that, Tord was in a defensive stance, dropped into a boxers stance and ready to block. He hadn't expected the next blow to come from a glowing green fist, though. The young male was thrown into a back wall with the punch, knocking the air out of his lungs and leaving him dizzy as his head smacked against the pavement. He had no time before the fist was wrapped around his neck, squeezing the air from him.   
"You. You killed Jon. You're going to pay with your life." As Tord clawed the man's hand with his own, he barely registered the green bullet shape coming towards them before it crashed into the man, throwing him off of Tord. "Eduardo, enough!" Hands were on him, and he was panicking again, in full fight or flight mode and he could not breathe. "Hey! Hey, shhh, calm down. It's Tom! It's Tom. Eaasy now." The other spoke, as Tord calmed down and stopped fighting his grasp enough for Tom to hold him. Matt stood in front of the two, eyes trained on the wrestling pair of green tumbling around screaming on the grass, and the blonde on the other side of them. Tord watched Matt move across the grass, walking and meeting in the middle with the tall, muscular blonde and picking up a harsh chat that Tord couldn't make the words out for. All he could register was that everything hurt, and that Tom was holding his head in just the right way to stop the painful headache that split across his temples. By the time he could focus on anything more than the pain, he realized Edd was holding Eduardo by the shoulder as he glared daggers into the norski. Tord shrunk back at the sight of him, which seemed to calm him somewhat. Eduardo puffed out his chest, staring Tord down. "You just remember who's in charge around here and not to pull any of that shit again." Eduardo growled at him, before stalking off. The blonde who talked to Matt nodded at them all, and swiftly left with the angry green man.  
The group was tense, silent for a moment. Tord watched blood trail from a cut on Edds lip where he'd surely been punched. He watched Matt kiss Edd, softly, the blood coming away and the wound nonexistant as he pulled away. He noticed the way Edd's eyes glowed green, instead of their brown hue.   
He doesn't remember passing out after that.


	6. Fluff Piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block has been a bitch, but here's a chapter! Sorry that it's so short. I'm working on something else to bring you lovelies, so stay tuned for the next chapter!

Waking up hurt less than Tord had expected.   
Blinking slowly to get used to the light, Tord yawned, hand moving up to pull on Tom's hoodie as he felt himself shifted softly in the others arms. “Are you carrying me?” he asked, a little incredulously. Tom snorted softly.  
“You knocked out cold, Tord. Edd offered to, but Matt was too worried about his earlier fight to make him do anything else.”  
“Oh,” Tord whispered. “I'm sorry.”  
Tom shrugged, adjusting Tord in his arms to pull him up more. “Nobody expected Eduardo to plan a homicide in broad daylight. It's fine.”   
“Though we did think he miiight be a little angry at you!” Matt chimed in, popping his head up into Tord's view with a smile. “We should have warned him earlier about you being in the neighborhood, but it slipped our minds I guess.” Tord nodded, head resting back against Tom for a moment before he spoke again.  
“Tom.”  
“Yes?”  
“How did you know Eduardo was attacking me and be there so quickly?” With that sentence, Tom looked away, to hide his own features. Edd and Matt both looked a little guilty as well. “Boys.” Tord pressed.  
“We... Okay, so we followed you.” Edd said, holding his finger up as Tord's mouth opened, so he could continue. “We have good reason. We wanted to know what you were doing, we haven't seen you in so long and the last time... I'd be lying if I said I wasn't suspicious when you asked to leave for a bit.”   
“I'm sorry, for not being trustworthy,” Tord said softly, heart jumping to his throat.  
“Tord-”  
“No, Edd, I'm being sincere. I'm trying to get better. I want you to know that. I want to be better for all of us. For this friendship.”  
The group had paused in the street at this point, standing there together. Slowly, Tord held out his hand, smiling when Edd linked their fingers together softly. Matt grabbed Edd and Tords remaining hands, and the two curled over Tord, faces pressed to Tom's hoodie. The three stood there in the soft hug, Tord curled between them in Toms' arms, and had a moment of peace, for a second, forgetting about the rest of the world. It was nice.  
Tord's impulsive thoughts came in, demons gripping his shoulder as they purred to him, 'Ah, so nice. How much do you think it will hurt when this ends?'  
-  
Getting home was nice. The air conditioning greeted them, the cold waves hitting them in a way that made the norski shiver ever so slightly. Tom chuckled at the way he pulled at his sweater, the baggy blue fabric pulled over his hands and pressed to his face. “You're such a nerd.” He laughed.  
“Shut up.”  
“Make me.” Tom challenged, a sly grin on his face. He didn't expect the blush that spread over the shorter man's cheeks. “Tord?”  
“Sorry.” the other breathed, quietly, “I just thought of one of my hentai's.”  
Tom dropped him on the couch.  
“HEY” the other cackled as Tom quickly turned heel, walking past Edd. “I'm not dealing with you, heathen.” the other said, voice monotone as Edd and Matt grinned widely as to not laugh, Tord's own laughter echoing behind them.


End file.
